Reclaiming Honor

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  “Thank you, Thulla,” Tovak breathed and returned to the teska. “Hey, boy,” he said to the first teska, and set the bucket within easy reach. “If you are a boy.” In the darkness, he could not tell.

  The creature sniffed at the bucket, making a heavy chuffing sound, then began loudly lapping the water with a thick pink tongue, splashing some as it drank. He could hear Benthok going over the signs, but the class was too far away for him to hear what was being said clearly. He placed the second bucket before the other teska. It immediately began drinking.

  “At least you don’t care what I am,” he said and fell silent for a few heartbeats. He leaned in close to the teska’s furry ear and whispered, “I’m a Pariah.”

  He leaned back and watched the animal for a few moments.

  “See?” he said. “No reaction. You don’t care. Animals never do, not like people.”

  Tovak returned to the stream, filled the buckets once more, and let the teska drink their fill. When they stopped drinking, he hung the buckets where he’d found them. Tovak grabbed one of the heavy-duty canvas sacks. It stank terribly and was already partially full. He found a small shovel in the cart’s bed and went about his next task—a most unpleasant one—of collecting the animals’ droppings.

  Shovel firmly in hand, Tovak took a deep breath and held it as he scooped the rank manure into the sack. When he had to, he tried to breathe through his mouth, but that didn’t help much. He could literally taste the powerful-smelling manure. There was nothing fouler than teska dung.

  When he finished, he hung the now half-full sack on the cart and returned to the stream. He cleaned the shovel first, then his hands, making sure they were stink-free, even picking under his nails. When he was done, his fingers were nearly numb from the cold water. He returned the shovel to where he’d found it. His next and final task was to brush both animals down.

  Tovak had done this before and knew what to do. He started work on them, making sure his strokes were straight and firm, working to get any dirt and knots out of the fur. He was so fatigued from the day’s exertions, not only did his legs shake, but so too did his arms. The brushing down of the animals took a good deal of time, especially if done right. And Tovak intended to do the job right. He did not want either of the teamsters complaining. He would not let Thegdol down again.

  As he worked in the moonlit darkness, he found himself growing wearier by the moment. He caught himself yawning repeatedly. It was becoming a struggle. All he wanted was to lie down and go to sleep.

  “You do good work.”

  Tovak jumped, startled, and spun around. Shrike was standing a few feet off. “Shrike, you scared me stiff.”

  “Been watching you,” Shrike said. “Normally, I am the one that cares for Missa.”

  “His name is Missa?” Tovak glanced at the teska he’d been working on. The shaggy beast uprooted a clump of grass and began munching away.

  “Her,” Shrike said, stepping nearer. “She and me have been together a good long time. Like me, she’s reliable and good-natured.”

  Tovak almost laughed. “I thought you were an animal?”

  “We’re all animals inside,” Shrike said. “It’s when the animal comes out that we should be worried.”

  Tovak gave a half-chuckle. He wasn’t quite sure if Shrike was jesting or, for that matter, what he meant by the comment.

  “You go on back to camp,” Shrike said. “I’ll finish the brushing of Missa. She likes it better when I do it, anyhow.”

  “Are you sure? I’ve been assigned to this duty.” Tovak did not want to give the lieutenant grounds for disciplining him further.

  “I am,” Shrike said, taking the brush from Tovak’s hand. “Your lieutenant can speak to me if he has an issue with it. Besides, you had a tough day, tangling with a murinok and all. I think you’ve done more than enough.”

  “Thank you,” Tovak said, feeling relieved that his work for the day was at an end.

  “No thanks needed,” Shrike said. “Just keep the game coming and I’ll happily cook it.”

  “That’s a deal.”

  “Oh,” Shrike said. “Best try and keep from doing daft things for a while, eh? I think you might live longer.”

  Amused, Tovak started for the camp. Gulda still stood atop the berm as he passed by, about ten paces away. He gave her a wave as he crossed the bridge into the camp. She did not see it, as her gaze was elsewhere.

  Tovak found that the class was finished. The section had been dismissed and bedrolls were being laid out. He spotted Thegdol, Lok, and Staggen off to his right, laying out their bedrolls and preparing to bed down for the night. He retrieved his own pack and joined them.

  Kneeling, Thegdol looked up at Tovak. The corporal had just laid out his bedroll and was digging through his pack. “Done already?”

  Placing a hand on the ground, Thegdol started to get up.

  “Shrike said I’d done enough,” Tovak said.

  “Then you have,” Thegdol said, and abandoned the attempt at standing. He pointed to a pack four feet away. “Set your bedroll next to Gorabor’s, there.”

  “Corporal Thegdol”—Benthok’s voice carried over the camp from where he sat by his own fire—“has the sentry rotation for tonight been addressed?”

  “It has, sir,” Thegdol said. “The rotation’s set. Corporal Gamok has the watch tonight.”

  “Excellent,” Benthok replied, then raised his voice. “Time to turn in. We have a long day waiting for us in the morning. Hit the sack.”

  Tovak set his pack down and undid his bedroll. He quickly laid it out, just as Gorabor walked up.

  “Hand me my spear, Tovak, would you?” Gorabor asked, pointing at it, where it lay next to his pack.

  “Sure,” Tovak replied. He grabbed the weapon and handed it over. He was surprised to see Gorabor in his armor. “Sentry duty?”

  Gorabor nodded. “Me and Jodin have first watch. It’s my first time standing watch.”

  “Well, at least one of us will be getting a good night’s sleep,” Tovak said.

  “Ha ha. No napping for me,” Gorabor said.

  “If either of you ever get caught napping while on sentry duty,” Lok said in a deadly serious tone, “it’s punishable by the lash or worse if it happens in the field.”

  “Worse?” Tovak asked, looking over.

  “Death.” Staggen drew a finger across his neck, then lay down and pulled his blanket about him. “If you’re caught napping, the lieutenant would probably kill you with his own bare hands and take pleasure in it too.”

  “Out here,” Thegdol said, sounding incredibly weary but just as serious, “a sentry who shirks his duty puts all of our lives at risk. As such, the penalty is quite harsh. When I first joined up, I saw a sentry from another company put to death for sleeping during his watch. The punishment was administered by his own squad. They were ordered to beat him to death with clubs.”

  An uncomfortable silence filled the air about them.

  “Well, that settles it then,” Gorabor said, with a nervous chuckle. “No napping for me.”

  “You report to Corporal Gamok,” Thegdol said to Gorabor. “He’s in charge of the watch tonight. Get going before you’re late.”

  Gorabor nodded his understanding and moved off.

  With that, Tovak went to work on his bedroll. He laid it out and rolled up his cloak for a pillow. Most of the section were already down. Tovak could hear the first of the snores.

  He glanced around at the camp once more. The central campfire burned brightly, casting flickering shadows against the berm. He sucked in a breath of the cool mountain air and once again found himself enjoying his surroundings. The moon had risen about halfway above the horizon, and there was a slight halo around it.

  “When will I get sentry duty?” Tovak asked Thegdol as the thought popped into his head.

  “When the lieutenant feels you can be trusted with it,” Thegdol said. “Until then, your nights should be uninterrupted bliss. Enjoy it, while it
lasts. Now, get some sleep and stop bothering me. It’s been one bitch of a day.”

  Tovak could not disagree. It had been one bitch of a day. He laid down, pulled his blanket up about him, closed his eyes, and let the exhaustion take hold. He was asleep in moments.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The section had been awoken well before dawn. The sky had not even lightened when Thegdol, already wearing his armor, nudged and kicked his squad awake. Tovak felt far from rested, but he dragged himself to his feet, visited the latrine, and packed away his bedroll and blanket before wearily donning his armor. The air was cool, almost crisp, and the star-speckled sky above clear. A breakfast of warm porridge, which Thegdol called mush, waited for them. To his surprise, Tovak found he enjoyed it. The wine he’d saved from the night before helped to wash it down and dull his aches and pains.

  When the first of the two suns came up, they discovered a swarm of hoppers had, during the night, settled into the valley. There were thousands of them all around. Some of the heratta munched on grasses, while others chewed at the newer growth of the pines that covered the hillsides. With every passing moment, more of the hoppers, wings buzzing madly, flew in, landing amongst their fellows, with one thought . . . to feed. The sight of them had sent not only a shock of excitement but amazement through the entire section. Tovak had never seen anything like it.

  Benthok ordered the squads out with their slings. The day’s focus would be on taking down as many of the big insects as possible. The lieutenant had also ordered the teamsters, as soon as was reasonably practical, back down the hill, with a request for additional carts and wagons to be sent to his location.

  As Tovak had teska duty, he helped the other teamster load the last of the kills onto the carts. Both were filled with the previous day’s bounty, including Tovak’s murinok.

  The teamster’s name was Reng, and Tovak found him disagreeable and surly. He was also unkempt, smelled foul, and looked not to have bathed on a regular basis. His hair and beard were a greasy, wild tangle. Together, they ran rope over the bundles of dressed carcasses and butchered meat and then covered it all over in a canvas tarp.

  When they were done, Tovak eyed the back of Shrike’s cart, where the remains of the murinok were loaded. In a way, he was glad the creature had not been cooked and served to the section. He would not have felt right eating it.

  Then it came time to hitch the animals up to the carts. As they worked, the rest of the section departed, filing by one squad at a time. Assisting the teamsters, Tovak watched them go with not a little regret. He wished he’d not had punishment duty and felt once again like he’d let Thegdol down.

  The hitching of the first teska had gone well enough. The animal was easily led by the bridle and seemed cooperative. Once Reng had the teska in position, they began securing him to the cart.

  When it came time to hitch Missa, she refused to budge from her grazing. She ignored all tugs on the bridle and even Shrike having a talk with her.

  “By Thulla’s great big ass, I don’t think she’s inclined to be hitched.” Reng spat on the ground by Tovak’s feet.

  “She’ll move,” Shrike said, rubbing Missa’s neck, “when she’s ready.”

  “Bah.” Reng climbed up onto the driver’s bench of his cart. “You need to beat her, like the rest of us do. Then she’d be willingly led. I’m tired of wasting time. I’ll see you down at the wagons, if you ever make it.”

  Shrike gave a negligent wave of his hand, as if to convey he did not care what the other teamster did. And with that, Reng cracked his whip harshly and started off slowly, moving downhill and following the cart tracks they’d made the previous day on the way up to camp.

  In the end, it had taken a lot of cajoling and patience on Shrike’s part to get Missa to the cart and hitched. He even went so far as to bribe the shaggy teska with several carrots. Shrike pulled himself up onto the driver’s bench then, with a grunt, disengaged the cart’s brake. Taking the reins and whip in hand, he sat down and looked down on Tovak.

  “I’d hazard I’ll be seeing you later,” Shrike said. The teamster slapped on an old wide-brimmed hat against the heat of the suns, which were now both climbing over the horizon. The hat, once dyed a dark brown, was now a fast-fading tan. It, like the cart Shrike drove, had seen better days. “Thanks for the help hitching the old girl up. It’s much appreciated.”

  “See ya later, Shrike,” Tovak said as the teamster gave a flick of the whip, cracking it in the air. Missa made a deep, startled chuff and began lumbering forward, all six legs going. The oversized wheels of the cart, in need of an oiling, creaked loudly with each turn. The other cart was still in view, bouncing down the hill and already more than two hundred yards ahead. Shrike gave another crack of the whip and Missa picked up the pace.

  Tovak watched for a moment, then turned and walked back to camp. He was terribly sore from the previous day’s exertions, though his head no longer hurt. Besides sore muscles, his blisters made walking uncomfortable. Tovak did his best to put the discomfort from his mind, for it would surely be another demanding day. The life of a skirmisher certainly did not seem to be an easy one.

  Only two sentries had been left behind at camp. Dagmar had been posted near the entrance. Tovak did not know the other sentry, who stood watch from the opposite end of camp. The rest of the section was out hunting.

  “A fine day,” Dagmar commented, leaning on his spear. “A terribly fine day, if I don’t say so.”

  “Is that because you’re on sentry duty and not out working, like the rest of the section?” Tovak asked. “Or is it because it looks to be a cooler day than the last?”

  “You wound me, sir.” Dagmar straightened and placed a hand to his chest armor. “But, in truth, if I’m being honest, you might be right.”

  “About which part?” Tovak asked.

  “Both,” Dagmar said with a grin and then leaned forward. “Do you want to know the secret to making one’s life easier as a soldier?”

  “Sure,” Tovak said.

  “To do as little work as possible,” Dagmar said, “and avoid any extra details the officers, sergeants, and corporals want to find for you. Though to be honest, sometimes it is harder figuring out how to make that happen than doing the work like everyone else.”

  “Right,” Tovak said, shaking his head with amusement, and continued into the camp. Thegdol had left him instructions. Once he was done with the teamsters, he was to grab his haversack, two skins of water, and join the squad just down the hill. He was also to bring his sling and all the shot he had. Tovak did not want to dally. He gathered up his gear and set out. Without another word to Dagmar, who was walking away from him along the berm and gazing outward, Tovak left the camp. He headed downhill in the direction the squad had gone.

  He found them less than five hundred yards away in an open area free of trees. They had already brought down more than two dozen hoppers. The kills had been collected, dragged over, and tossed onto a pile. Thegdol had the squad spread out in a short line, twenty feet to the front of the heap of carcasses.

  The air was full of the insects’ buzzing wings and chittering as sunshine warmed the entire valley. The good weather seemed to bring in even more hoppers, who flew in over the ridge in search of food. As Tovak drew closer, he watched two that buzzed overhead land forty yards away in the long grass.

  Morda was back with the squad, after having been sent to the captain with a message from the lieutenant. Tovak was so new to the company, he’d not even missed his fellow squad mate nor noticed his absence until he had returned, shortly after dawn. It brought the squad’s number back up to seven.

  Thegdol had formed them up into what only could be described as a loose skirmish line, with five feet of space between each member. The grass was waist-high and swished as Tovak moved through it. Jodin looked ‘round, spotted Tovak, and shot him a sour look. Thegdol caught the look and turned, tucking his own sling into his belt. The corporal began walking over to meet him. The wind gusted, and
for a moment, it almost looked like the corporal was wading through a swaying sea of green.

  “What took you so long?” Thegdol asked him.

  “One of the teska did not feel like being hitched.”

  “They can be stubborn,” Thegdol said absently and glanced toward his line, then back to Tovak. “Let’s see how you use that sling.”

  Tovak removed his sling.

  “Best have him sit this one out, Thegdol,” Jodin said. “We don’t want an amateur scaring the bugs away, now, do we?”

  Tovak felt a stab of anger at the words. He was no amateur with the sling.

  Thegdol turned an annoyed look on Jodin before returning his attention to Tovak. “If you had seen fit to test him with the sling as I had instructed yesterday, Jodin, then I wouldn’t need to check his skill with it now, would I?”

  “You’re right, Corporal. Why take the chance though?” Jodin pressed, as shame and anger seemed to war for a moment on his face before settling on just plain anger. “The hoppers are within easy reach and packed so tightly, one miss could see them all chased off. Let him prove himself later, back at camp. He can fetch and carry for us.”

  Tovak did not like that idea.

  “I can use the sling, Corporal,” Tovak said, as confidently as he could. “I was considered quite good at casting.”

  Thegdol rubbed his jaw, then glanced out in the field. “Okay, Tovak. I’m inclined to give you a shot at it.”

  “You’re making a mistake,” Jodin said.

  “It’s my mistake to make,” Thegdol said, looking directly into Jodin’s eyes. “Quit your grousing and focus on doing your job before I put you on a charge.”

  Jodin closed his mouth with a snap, turned away, and immediately let his sling fly. Fifteen feet away, he dropped a hopper. Tovak was impressed, for the shot had been rapidly made.